


Abomination

by littlemisswriter123



Category: Supernatural, The Originals (TV)
Genre: Angels, Army, Blood, Demons, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Hybrids, Manipulative Relationship, Psychological Drama, Romance, Sex, Sexy, Supernatural Elements, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 13:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisswriter123/pseuds/littlemisswriter123
Summary: Hope Mikaelson has been captured to be used by the demon Crowley to create an army of powerful hybrids. This cannot happen, and Castiel will do everything in his power to prevent his plan. What happens when the powerful hybrid and the powerful angel develops an unbreakable bond? Loyalties will be tested and war will ensue.





	1. Fear of the Dark

_Darkness approaches from outside. I feel no light inside me strong enough to resist it._

\- Christopher Pike

 

 

The hanging midnight moon casts a luminous glow over the city of the dead, transforming the dense fog into a realm of never-ending loss. They say the tormented spirits linger among the rich atmosphere of New Orleans. It was true.

Sitting on her knees, she glanced down at the white wicked candle, watching it flicker in the warm breeze. It's wax dripped down its body and onto the ground in front of the tomb. Her tomb. Engraved in the stone was her name, Hope Mikaelson. The city, her family, and sometimes even she herself thought she was dead. If only they knew her dark secret.

"Come back to visit?" a voice cooed in a slow, sadistic manner.

Slowly, Hope looked over to meet the raven black eyes of her enemy. Well, one of her enemies. "Estelle," she greeted with a simple nod and returned her eyes to her grave, "Did you actually come alone? I think we both know if you did that will have been a mistake on your part."

Estelle, a petite young woman with a fiery pixie cut, laughed shortly "I'm a demon, not stupid."

"Could have fooled me" Hope said vacantly.

She didn't have to look up to know she was now surrounded by demons, their dark eyes piercing her from behind. "We're going to have fun with this" a man spoke, a sense of excitement in his voice. Of course, he was excited to see bloodshed, particularly hers.

Hope stood to her feet and turned to face them. Five of them. Well, it appeared they'd learned their lesson from the last time they'd had a faceoff. With a nod and a slight smirk, she studied them. "Shall we?" she asked, in almost a humored tone. Just then the ground and walls around them began to shake and a pitting feeling began to weigh her down. She knew what was to come now. Obviously, his little minions couldn't get the job done, so he had to step in and improvise.

He suddenly appeared a few feet in front of her, wearing a crooked smile. "Hello again, darling. How long has it been?" his eyes flitted behind her and let out a short laugh "Oh, dear, I didn't miss the funeral did I? I'm sure it was lovely."

"What do you want, Crowley" she demanded shortly.

Crowley gazed down at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes "You" he said before snapping his fingers.

Everything went dark.

 

 

**This is a very short first chapter, but hopefully, this will introduce you to my writing style and that you give it a chance! Like, comment, subscribe...the whole nine yards if you enjoyed it! I hope to be posting more in the very near future, and before you ask, yes this will be a very complicated love story between the hybrid Hope and the angel Castiel. Stay tuned!**


	2. Million Dollar Plan

_Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction._

_\- Erich Fromm_

 

 

Often, when one makes a mistake, it can be gathered into an unsavory pile and swept easily under the metaphorical rug of collected lies each person no doubt wields throughout their life. Hope had never been offered that luxury. Her secrets, her actions, her desires were all on display to the enemies she feared most. It was ignorant to pretend she feared nothing, and dangerous to be fearful. Ironic, wasn't it?

Hope's head slowly sloped to the side as she began to wake from her, well, Crowley induced slumber. It hurt to open her eyes and hurt to keep them closed, taking her some time to adjust through the haze.

"Sleep well?" Crowley's voice came suddenly, "I hope not." He stood near her, by a round silver table held up by one long leg, which was bolted into the concrete. Obviously, a permanent situation. Gleaming tools of, she assumed torture, were laid neatly on top in a row from biggest to smallest. How organized, she thought, tasting her own sarcasm. No, that was the metallic taste of blood.

"Too bad," Hope began with a crooked smirk and moved her neck to the side, which cracked defiantly, "That was the best sleep of my life. Not even one erotic dream of you."

He chuckled low in his throat "I choose to ignore the sarcasm in your voice" he said, glancing in her direction and giving a wink. He then picked up a small tool which had a wire hanging from its tail end. She recognized it as a branding tool, ideally used to burn skin. She'd noticed one once when stealing from a hospital blood bank in Philadelphia, that tool was used to cauterize a wound. She could only imagine what Crowley's intentions were for it.

Finally focusing, Hope could see the extent of the danger she was in. She was sitting in an oversized metal chair with a slatted back, wrists pinned to the cold flat arms, and off to the side stood a tall IV stand dripping a clear liquid through its tubes and into her veins. She could feel the familiar burn of vervain, but it had obviously been diluted to keep her subdued yet conscious. To top her predicament, she had no idea where she was and anyone capable of saving her thought she was dead. She was ultimately screwed.

"As much as I adore guessing games, I'm really not in the mood to figure out your diabolical plan of either redemption or vengeance," Hope said, in a not so entertained tone.

"Oh, on the contrary, darling. My plan is intended for nothing but pure and absolute power. I will suggest you drop the attitude because I'm in no mood to entertain it" he finished off with a loud shout. "I have been hunting you down for six months and every moment I think I finally find you, you to always slip through my fingers." He suddenly strode across the space between them and his face was inches from hers, branding tool still in hand "So tell me. How have you done it?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets."

Crowley's scowl intensified as he pulled away and walked around her chair. Grabbing a fistful of long dark hair he pushed her head forward, sweeping the stray hairs aside to reveal the back of her slender neck. What did he intend to do?

Hope found out a moment later as the branding tool seared into the back of her neck, and it took every ounce of her not to let out a piercing scream. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she tried to focus on what shape it was he was drawing, which was nearly an impossible task. Even when he pulled away she trembled noticeably.

"Much like branding a cow," Crowley said, she didn't need to turn to look at him to know he was grinning gleefully, "Fortunately for me, unfortunate for you, I found a rather capable witch who was willing to create a spell for me. A tracker if you will. In case you decide to make another daring escape, I will be able to locate you in an instant. It cannot be healed by anyone but the witch who created it. Although don't allow that get your hopes up, I've already killed her."

"Of course, you have," Hope seethed through her teeth, "That's what monsters do."

Crowley moved to kneel in front of her, hands on her knees as he gazed at her with the same sadistic demeanor as before "Oh, but darling, you and I have so much more in common than you realize." Reaching over, he withdrew an unopened blood bag from a small cooler that had been hiding under her chair. He tore off the top sealant and wafted the blood underneath her nose, forcing her eyes to darken in a near demonic nature. Although, being a hybrid had its differences. Her eyes transformed into a haunting amber color in place of pure black. Dark veins wriggled underneath her eyes as if crawling towards the blood in desperation, and her sharp fangs pierced her gums as they extended downward "What you crave makes you a monster all the same."

Hope remained silent. She had no argument for him, nor proof that what he said wasn't true. She was a monster and she'd accepted that long ago. Why bother fighting it now?

"Your silence is deafening."

"And your voice is annoying. Are we finished stating the obvious?"

Crowley chuckled darkly in response and nodded to himself. At least he was entertained.

Hope watched as he sauntered back to the stand, replacing the branding tool with a syringe. It had a long, gleaming needle that shimmered unrealistically. It looked fake, or something you'd find in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Either way, she didn't want that needle coming anywhere near her.

"This," Crowley began, "Is a true masterpiece. Do you know what it is?" he asked "No, I thought not," he added smugly. He strode towards her again, this time revealing a small metal device from his pocket that had the appearance of a wine corker. "Another beauty." He said and grabbed the back of Hope's hair yet again, this time wrenching her head backward. His thumb and pointer finger pinched her chin and pulled her mouth open with force. He then jammed the wine-popper-device into her mouth, settling it between the roof and just under her tongue. The metallic taste made her want to gag.

"Wolves have a finicky way about the toxin they produce in their gums. Like poison to a vampire, and yet like steroids to other creatures. One could argue steroids are like a poison, but then again, too much of any one thing can be proven deadly." Using his right hand, he pushed the plunger, creating no space for air to slip in. Hope could only stare at the needle that looked solid yet liquid in fascination. What was the purpose of such a unique metal?

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Crowley asked "Would you like to know what it will do? Well, since you asked so politely, I'll tell you. This needle was designed especially for you, darling," he smirked, stroking the edge, "Not only will this extract your wolf toxin, but it will also extract ounces of your magic. And since we need more than a few ounces I'm afraid you'll be here for quite some time donating." He looked her over, a chill running down her spine "Oh, but no worries. I won't tell you what I'm going to do with it. That's a surprise."

Hope began to squirm, using all her might to break free of her bindings, but she knew what was to come. It wasn't the needle she feared, it was what Crowley planned to do with his new-found discovery, and whatever he did would ultimately be her fault. She wasn't careful enough and now he was bound to ruin more lives. It was his greed for power that would end him.

The needle pinched, and Hope cringed. However, it was the sensation of losing a bit of her magic, a bit of herself, that was most painful. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek to the nape of her neck, creating a wet streak, reminding her that she was vulnerable. And now Crowley knew it too.

Two more withdrawals. Three more. Five more. It seemed the process of the needle plunging into her now tender and inflamed gums would never cease. Crowley only stopped when it seemed there wasn't any more of her "venom" to steal. That was fortunate in an unfortunate situation. Hope felt drained, almost lifeless.

Ounce by ounce her magic had been taken and she wasn't sure if it would ever replenish itself. He took more from her than she could have ever thought possible, and now it seemed she didn't have the power to take revenge. She had...nothing. That was her last thought as she began to slip into the black lagoon of her own subconscious.

It felt like mere seconds when Hope opened her eyes again. Her gums were still sore, and her head throbbed as if she was suffering from a major hangover after Mardi Gras. She would have cursed out Crowley's name if she wasn't so taken aback by what was in front of her. Or, rather, what was around her.

The chatter in the air, the whoops and hollers shook the stadium walls. It was a stadium, wasn't it? Hope slowly sat up from her position on the dirty blue and white tile grout floor and gazed around, assessing her location through her pounding headache. No, it wasn't a stadium, nor an arena. It was, a pool hall? Yes, that's what it was. She was in the center of a massive, at least twenty feet deep, abandoned swimming pool. Above were people standing over the edge, staring at her and laughing, the eyes black as coal. Demons.

Carefully standing to her feet, Hope tried to understand the purpose of this, but then did Crowley really need a purpose to do something so outrageous? Suddenly, he was standing across from her on the other side of the pool.

"Do you like my arena, Hope?" Crowley asked.

"What kind of sleazy Hunger Games crap is this?" Hope demanded, but unlike the last time they spoke, she wasn't in the mood for games and sarcasm.

"Well, dear Hope, this is your demise," he said, raising his hands as the demons' voices around him began to rise until it became a roar as powerful as the ocean. She understood then. This was the fight for her life. She turned in a slow circle to see the dozens of demons, heard their angry hisses and their horrifying threats.  _Well then_ , Hope thought,  _game on_.


End file.
